The Rise and Fall of Severus Snape
by acciolove-x
Summary: "I was immediately disgusted with myself; making a shaky compromise with somebody I could hardly trust, just to give me the chance to run away." Snape fakes his own death during the Battle of Hogwarts, runs, and returns years later. Slight OCC. M-language
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Take it or leave it."

I looked up into the cold, blue eyes as they pierced me. I didn't have the energy to argue, and I was certainly in no fit position to bargain.

The figure before me extended a hand. It was pale, and although it was fairly small, it was manly. I twitched my arm, and felt my own warm blood from my soaked robes touch my skin.

"Well?"

"Deal," I grunted, summoning all of my remaining energy to force the word from my mouth. I pulled my heavy arm from the ground and grasped the hand.

I was immediately disgusted with myself; making a shaky compromise with somebody I could hardly trust, just to give me the chance to run away. What would Lily have said? Oh, Lily.

"Excellent. Until then, Severus Snape," the figure said. I saw a swish of robes from my position on the floor as my saviour turned to leave the shack.

"Just one moment."

The figure turned to face me again, one eyebrow cocked. They seemed utterly unperturbed by the fact that the battle of the century was taking place outside.

"Yes?"

"Who's winning?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" they said with a false laugh. "It's over. He's gone. You-Know-Who is dead."

I felt a mixture of emotions. The monster that had killed my love was dead.

"And the boy?"

"Harry Potter?"

"Who else?" My patience was beginning to wear thin.

"He's alive, and unharmed, from what I've heard. Asleep, I think, in his old dormitory."

"Excellent."

The figure turned to leave once more.

I summoned the last of my remaining strength to utter a final threat. "I know your secret. Not a word."

The figure paused. "Not a word," they repeated softly, before leaving through the tunnel with ease.

There was a flash of red and gold and a soft thump, then the Shrieking Shack went black.

_Short little prologue there. Very short. But it can only get better from here :) I will love you forever if you review. I really mean it._


	2. Soon As You Like

_I'm sorry that this is so long after the prologue but I barely get time to breathe at the moment. I hope you enjoy this chapter, please review if you don't hate me for keeping you in suspense for so long!_

Chapter One - As Soon As You Like

Twenty-two years after this shameful agreement, and my longing was growing more powerful than ever. I don't even know what drew me to the blasted place. I had spent most of the worst days of my life inside those walls; but then again, it was also the setting of some of my best.

I opened my eyes and glanced around the rough stone walls of the cave. I'd been sleeping in this damp, cold shelter for three nights. Maybe it wasn't a five star hotel, but most of them don't have the required amenities anyway. The important thing about this shelter was that it provided protection; from the wind, the hail, the snow, and people, magical and Muggle alike.

I rolled over and, to my relief, the pain in my back had subsided. Thank Merlin. I had begun to swear at the walls the day before, I was so frustrated and devoid of human contact. Not that it was necessary to avoid everybody; there was always Polyjuice potion, but it's easier being alone.

I dragged myself from the mossy floor of the cave and stooped, hunchbacked, to the small entrance. The roof was nowhere near high enough to allow me to stand up straight. A hundred memory bullets suddenly shot through my mind; of a place with ceilings high enough for three, four, five of me. I stuck my head out of the cave, and my skin was immediately bitten raw by the unforgiving ice crystals.

"Merlin's bollocks."

And that's what one says when they forget about the small stone precipice above the entrance to the cave.

Rubbing my throbbing head, I let my eyes sweep the mountains. There had only been a smidge of snow yesterday, it looked like icing sugar, but the flakes must have continued to tumble overnight because the damned stuff was almost up to my knees.

I pulled myself back into my sanctuary and sighed. I couldn't camp out there must longer; even as an exceptional wizard, it's impossible to control the elements. But where to go? I knew where I _wanted _to go, of course, but it just wasn't an option…they knew, they'd all know, he would have seen to that. But I couldn't resist…that pull has always been so strong. The pull to that place. The pull to her.

I gathered up my pathetic belongings and crawled out of the cave. Impervious charms are useful, you know, they prevent your robes from becoming sodden and snow soaking through to your legs. Or at least they would, if you remembered to use them.

It was silent outside; not many people have a good reason to be halfway up an isolated Norweigian mountain in winter.

I dragged my feet through that blasted snow until I was away from the cave, and had a good view of what was around me in every direction. Nothing. I stood alone in the wilderness, a black shadow against a white piece of paper, as I decided what to do. It wasn't worth using Polyjuice, nobody was going to be flying over the ocean at this time of year.

A good disillusionment charm did the trick; I was soon all but invisible. I couldn't help but envy Potter and his cloak. It would have been helpful at a time like this. Potter…I wondered where he was now, what he was doing. An Auror, probably. A job like that would have suited him; more skilled than one would admit, hatred of dark wizards, an uncanny knack for sticking his nose into other peoples' business to find out things that he shouldn't.

I dropped my bag onto the floor so that I was only holding a tube of brown, waterproof material and my wand. I gave my wand a wave, and the material floated off the object it was covering and into my bag.

The broomstick was not of very good quality, for it had been stolen from an abandoned broom shed, but it did the job well enough. I tied my bag to the broom and mounted it, feeling that familier sickening in my stomach that I felt whenever I had to use it. Not that I would ever admit it to anyone, but I was not the best flyer in the world. Of course, I didn't need a broomstick to fly. The Dark Lord had taught me how to fly using nothing but my own body and power, but I didn't like to travel this way. It reminded me of him, and what he did to her.

As the ancient twig finally lifted off the ground and I began to shoot upwards, I searched for the glint of sunlight reflected off water that would tell me the direction of the sea. Feeling increasingly foolish as I spun around in circles, it took a number of turns before I finally spotted the flash of gold.

I lowered myself to the ground, cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on myself and the broom, then took off into the dawn.

.o.O.o.

I had made poor progress; by nightfall, I was only at the coast. The weather had worsened. The snow had melted into rain, which pounded against my broomstick and numbed my hands. The large drops were beginning to blind me as they hit my forehead and slid down into my eyes. I had no choice but to stop and wait for the storm to pass. I swooped down onto the ground; a feeling I will never admit to loving. As my boot hit the damp, compacted sand, I threw the broom over my shoulder and surveyed my surroundings.

I had landed on a beach, no, more like a cove. It was small, very small, but I imagine it would have been the sort of place a pair of lovers would sneak off to during a sunny day. I let the train of thought stop here…I had no lover, nor would I ever. The beach was smooth sand, grey in the darkness.

"Lumos."

In the light of my wand, I could see that I wasn't far from the sea. The waves were rough; it looked as if each fresh one was trying its best to devour the one before it. They seemed lonely…the waves never met, but folded back into the depths of the never-ending ocean.

It would not be a good idea to attempt to cross it tonight. The wind would be strong, and without touching it I knew that the water would be bitterly cold. I looked around for somewhere to wait out the bad weather. There were a number of small caves imbedded into the rocks, but if I fell asleep and the tide came in, I would drown. However, the idea did not scare me. I was not afraid of death, for I had little to live for.

The entire beach was surrounded by rocks, so there was so obvious exit. After putting away my broom and checking my few possessions, I set off for the border of the beach to look for a crevice in the rocks. It was not long before I found a small, sandy path.

As I walked, I felt increasingly uneasy. I was not the sort to be afraid of the shadows casted by my wand light, but the high rocks and the darkness gave a feeling of claustrophobia that mimicked that of the tunnel to the shack where I had so many bad memories. The rocks gradually got higher, but I knew this wasn't the reason for my increased unease. For reasons I couldn't explain, I knew this wasn't a good place to be.

Despite my reservations, my eyelids were growing heavy and I knew I needed to find a place to sleep. Until then, I hadn't realised how weary I was getting. Of being awake, of my life, of everything.

I climbed a small ledge and my way to the top of the boulders. The water would never reach here. There was a small shelter nestled between two smaller rocks, and without hesitation, I crawled in and fell asleep.

.o.O.o.

I was woken by voices. I tried to open my eyes and found them clouded by sleep, but realised that there were rocks in the way anyway.

"His ideas, the way he treats his followers, his enemies. He's just like him. Voldemort."

The voice was British, Northern or perhaps Scottish, but it was the words the man had said that shocked me. Of course…dark magic was the only reason why two wizards would be meeting in an isolated location in the middle of the night.

"And you think I want to join him," another voice said.

"Yes."

I gripped my wand tightly, knowing that I might have to use it. These wizards weren't amateurs…I recognized one of them, but I couldn't quite place his name. He was part of the Dark Lord's outer circle…the sound of his voice brought back a memory.

"_Please, let me, my Lord, let me."_

"_Maybe next time, maybe next time…you are loyal, yes, but do not have the required skill for this task…"_

Of course. He may have been middle aged, but he was not a skilled wizard. I strained to hear more.

"He's powerful, so powerful. He will reward you well. Join me, join him. Wizards will rule once more. One day, people will be afraid to speak his name."

I couldn't decide how I felt about this…of course, as a Slytherin, it was everything I should have wanted. Superiority over those who are not of wizarding blood. But I could not stop thinking of her. The girl who was not of pure blood, but was of pure heart.

"Take me. Take me to your home and show me what he is doing. Show me how powerful he is. Then I shall consider it." The other man spoke good English, but had a faint accent. It was not Norwegian. It was as if he had been living in another country for some years, and had picked up on the accent, or he was a traveller.

"As soon as you like. Tell me when you are ready to come home," the man hesitated, "your wife misses you. You didn't see her for twenty years because you were in Azkaban. Then you left after three months. Please, Mr Malfoy, come home. You will be welcomed and put to great use. Come home."

I clutched my wand even tighter, but not out of preparation, out of anger. That coward Lucius Malfoy…he had run away too. For what reason? He most likely had none. What little respect I had for that man evaporated.

I heard the sound of stiff material moving as the men bowed to one another, and the faint pops of Apparation.

So there was going to be a new Lord. I knew then more than ever that I must return.

My promise to protect the boy still stood.


	3. Not a Safe Place to Be

_Aww guys, c'mon :( I didn't get a single review on my last chapter. Is this terrible? I would rather know! Hope you enjoy this one a little more…_

Chapter Two - Not a Safe Place to Be

After I awoke the following morning to a dank dawn, I realised that my thought process had been slightly irrational. The boy was now a man, how old I was unable to work out, but he probably had a family of his own by now.

A part of me, however…a part of me wanted to help the cause. Not just to keep my promise, but because I knew how it affected a person once they lost someone they love for, in truth, nothing. How it rips you apart, how when you hear the news you hope more than anything that it's a bad dream, how your body kicks in some sort of natural defence to prevent you from feeling the pain straight away, how that does nothing to ebb it once it comes…how, really, no matter how hard one tries, one is never really the same person they used to be. Their character changes. They become cold, or twisted, and most certainly bitter. Sometimes they do stupid things because they feel there is no reason, anymore. After every time my father beat her, I remember my mother would slather on makeup and wear provocative clothes and come home from the pub in the early hours of the morning, incoherent and seconds away from sliding into unconsciousness. To her, a peaceful oblivion. Sometimes I would find a note or two of money in her pocket.

It wasn't until I lost my darling Lily until I understood. It wasn't until after she passed away that I forgave her.

I couldn't let people I knew suffer any more than they already had. If I could do anything, I felt that I should. It would not be fair. Although I was a grown man, my years of solitude led me to realise that my previous behaviour had been extremely immature. Letting people lose what they love just because I had to.

"Homonum Revelio."

There was nobody around. It was time to depart. My boots sank into the sand as I wound my way though the oppressive rocks and back to the shore. I crunched through the crispy seaweed, and the salty sea breeze whipped my face. The sea was calmer than the previous, blustery evening, which made me feel much more comfortable about flying for hundreds of miles across the ocean.

As I reached the shore, I turned my back on the rolling waves to face the rocks behind me. This would be my last memory of this country. Not that I cared. Being overly sentimental just causes pain. I learnt that the hard way. I pulled a lone, stolen apple out of my bag and inspected it. It was only slightly mouldy. I ate the crisp, tangy flesh and threw the spoiled parts into the ripples at my feet before pulling the pack on my back and mounting my broom.

The sudden lurch pulled the hair back from my face, which I shook free as I swooped over the ocean.

.o.O.o.

It had gotten dark and had begun to rain again. The icy needles pricked the back of my neck, but soon my exposed skin became numb and immune. There was little wind and the sea was relatively calm. I had no idea where I was, but surely I would be close enough to home to apperate soon. I hoped so - my joints were stiff and aching, and my eyelids were weary.

Just as I had begun to believe that I would fall asleep on my broom and plummet to an icy death in the water below, my eyes picked out a small, dark point, only distinguishable in the sea by the fact it wasn't moving. I landed on the small stone ledge. It wasn't until I lit my wand and looked up that I was aware of the sprawl of other rocks ahead of me. I looked up further, but I was almost sure where I was. The uninviting, oppressive building before me told me I must be correct: I had landed near Azkaban.

However, something didn't seem right…on my other, less than pleasant trips to the cold block before me, it was exactly that…cold. Icy. Deathly. A horrifying chill that penetrated your bones, the core of your very being, which was as dark and inescapable as the prison itself. It was chilly here, yes, but that cold was missing.

The missing piece finally clicked into place in my mind…there were no Dementors here. But there should have been. I continued to stare up at the prison, calculating, now. Could it be possible that this new 'Lord' was so absurdly powerful that they had managed push Azkaban into disuse, so there was nowhere to put any of his followers, if caught? No…that couldn't be possible…then had the prison been closed by the Ministry of Magic? I highly doubted this, too…there would always be criminals, and always had, for as long as there had and will be society.

As I tried to search for another reason, a light flickered on in the block before me. So there was somebody there. The window was approximately half way up the building, the traditional place for the keeper of the prison to stay during visits. A thrill of fear shot through me as a thin beam of light suddenly blinded my right eye. I knew what would happen…a rugged man, standing alone, staring at the prison…I was the stereotypical prison escapee, unsure of what to do now that I had supposedly left.

As I swung my leg over my broom, the alarms began to sound. I had to be fast; I had seconds before a charm that would prevent anyone from entering or leaving the area around Azkaban became effective.

I swooped away into the endless, rainy night, until I was sure I was far enough away to apperate. I circled the dark ocean for a few minutes, eyes squinting against the rain, before finding a small rock to land on. Almost the very second that my feet hit the ground, I stepped forward and turned to Apperate.

In a sickening whirl of colours and shapes, I realised that I had no idea where I was going to appear. I pressed my eyelids shut until I was sure I was going to end up blind, and hoped that I wouldn't be splinched. Finally, after spinning in a kaleidoscopic limbo for longer than I ever remember, I felt my feet make contact with the ground again; it felt spongy, like wet grass.

After taking a few deep breaths, I ascertained that the world would no longer be spinning from my frantic escape, and was able to process the cold yet gentle wind swirling around my hair and robes. I heard the distinct sound of a Muggle car flying past. And another, and another, all at varying distances from me. The mournful wail of a siren. An aircraft overhead. Cities were such noisy places to be at night, and I assumed that I was in one.

I finally opened my eyes and was horrified by the sight before me. This was not a safe place to be. Not for me.

I was in a small square, surrounded by dimly lit streets, and although my feet were now firmly planted on a patch of grass, the smell of smog and vehicle fumes was all around me.

Opposite me was what appeared to be a solid wall of houses, the only way to distinguish between them being the address numbers. I didn't need to squint to know what number the house opposite me was; number 12.

Number 12, Grimauld Place. Of course, it would be my luck that I ended up here. For a moment, I was reckless. Instead of immediately finding another place of refuge, I stayed where I was and let the memories fill me. Summer. The ministry's incompetence. The Dementors. That dement_ed_ woman. The Order. Harry. Harry, James, Lily…

At that moment, the old door of number 12 whipped open and a figure emerged. He looked around furtively before striding down the steps and into the street. He nodded at me and made his way towards a bench on the square, still taking big, important strides. Strutting, one might say. He sat on the bench and glanced at me again. He was wearing robes, but I could make out no more features in the dim light; the pool from the streetlamp I was under ended just a few feet from him.

Which meant he could see me perfectly.

I pulled out my wand, ready to Obliviate, when a second figure came strutting onto the grass. I knew this stride well. I had no time to Obliviate now; the first figure and the second would know, the second figure or both and the second would know. There was no denying he was a good wizard, much as I hated to admit it.

I couldn't apperate; the crack would be too loud and draw attention to myself. As far as I could tell, the second figure…Harry, hadn't noticed me yet. I cast a silent disillusionment charm and ran.

Away from the square, from the memories, the Order, the boy…if I was better prepared, I may have stayed. Just to thank him. Even as a stranger, he mightn't recognize me with all this facial hair…but the shock of seeing him again so soon had startled me and I couldn't for the life of me find the right words. How do you find the words to thank someone who saved wizardkind? Who kept the wishes of my on true love alive? A simple 'thank you' card and some roses wouldn't cut it.

Not that I'd give roses anyway. Another kind of flower would have been much more meaningful.

Once I was far enough away, I stopped for breath, leaning against a dilapidated phone box. The red paint was peeling and revealed the icy grey beneath. Luckily, it was not the booth that led to the Ministry of Magic (or Meddling, as I prefer to call it); I had checked that before I stopped.

As I stood there, feeling my pulse beginning to slow, I let my mind answer the question it had been begging since I saw the first figure emerging from the house. Why was number 12 back in use? Sirius was dead. Surely Harry wouldn't want to live there; there would be too many painful memories. I know all about those, since I suffered them every day of my miserable life as a professor at Hogwarts. There could be only one answer. There really was a New Lord. Who at this time was still nameless to me. I thought again about what this would mean for the wizarding world. The muggle world. If the Order was meeting, the problem must be becoming significant…if not, the Auror Office would take care of it. Although the Potters have a wonderful talent for interfering where they are not wanted.

The unforgiving mental leeched the heat out of my body; I couldn't stay here anyway. There was one place I had to go, but I would need a disguise. The only problem was, I didn't want one. Why should I return to the only place I had called home as a new person? I shouldn't.

There was nobody in this dingy side street, other than an old, intoxicated man, who was probably seeing something much more interesting that the disappearance of an old man behind his glassy eyes.

I disapperated.

.o.O.o.

I reappeared on a mountain, overlooking a familiar place; the small village of Hogsmeade. As a teenager, most of the people my age thought that Hogsmeade was the best place on Earth; the sweets, the jokes, the freedom…however, I worshipped this township for another reason entirely. It was a means of communication with the outside world, a place away from my father and mother, and a place away from Hogwarts. I wished that I could've visited Hogsmeade more often, but I never found the secret passages that led to it until I was entitled to visit there at my own free will.

I made my way down the icy mountain slope, cursing as I slipped on a particularly dangerous rock. What was wrong with this infernal country? Must it be cold enough to freeze a dog's bollocks EVERYWHERE? Apparently so.

As I reached the base of the mountain, I realised that I was very close to Hogsmeade. I also realised what time it must have been. Harry and his mysterious friend had left number 12 very late, probably about one-thirty. It must be two in the morning now. At least I didn't have to worry about anybody recognizing me as I walked through the village, or even worry about seeing anybody at all. An old drunk didn't count as a person, in my opinion. If a person needs a chemical to block out the world, they are weak. Weak, weak weak. I can deal with pain. Everybody else should too.

I swept through the deserted town, feeling a small glimmer of happiness inside me. I'd had a lot of good times here, with a certain redhead. Of course, I'd had a lot of bad times here, too, thanks to her boyfriend.

As I passed the grimy alleyway that housed the Hog's Head, I murmured an unheard thanks. I knew the story as well as anyone…if not for him, the battle would be lost. We would all be dead. I spared a thought for him, wondering where he was now, wondering if he was still alive. It had been a number of years since the battle… I didn't know how many.

I walked the path the Hogwarts alone. I hadn't taken this walk with anyone but my own thoughts in a long time; it's a good job they are so amusing or I would have succumbed to madness. If I hadn't already.

My knees and ankles were beginning to ache as the castle came into view. Although, of course, it wasn't a castle to me. It was a palace. And for a while, I had been king.

Stopped short when my face hit the gates and sent a bolt of lightning through my body. Of course, I couldn't walk straight through anymore. The security must have been changed while I was away, and since I was supposed to be dead, they weren't letting me in.

This didn't matter though. I took a few indulgent minutes to stare at the lawns that were throwing themselves before me, and the fortress of magic that had helped so many.

I was home.


End file.
